Elana

Does anyone ask her why, she loves the falling rain, or adores the night sky, what rights have you, to shoot her down in flames, cloud her days zero, but where is the line, when shame sears her face, sedated by wine, do you place a curfew, make lovers take the blame, is this what you do, like the cherry flower shines, on early Spring days, her angel face sighs, the hair is spun fine, no one sees the pain, will you echo the lie, she'll bounce back again.